


Satin Storm

by bittenfeld



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Alternate Universe
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New – Chapter 2 - An alternate-universe story. The prince, Spock, craves this warrior, Kirk, for his own, and he will take the golden body that is offered to him…</p><p>Spock looked up, sensing Kirk’s gaze on him.  The young man stood at the archway to the bath alcove, naked, smiling at him…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

From the window cut through the thick rock castle wall, he gazed out at the night sky and the black valley stretching out for miles from the castle’s grounds to the beach fifty miles away. The castle itself, carved into the mountainside, sat high over its lands. Three hundred feet down brutal jagged stones and impenetrable brush, a peaceful river lea provided an abrupt contrast; then beyond another copse of evergreen and cottonwood, the larger valley of plowed and tilled acreage began and stretched on to the west farther than the eye could see, down to the ocean shore. Behind the palace rose sheer granite peaks thousands and thousands of feet, alpine about half-way up, then naked granite, continually snow-capped year-round. And just as the castle dominated Spock’s domain and kingship, so the mountains contemptuously dwarfed the pitifully arrogant human attempt at grandeur. The mountains stretched back for miles; no one had ever crossed the range on foot – there were no passes. All travelers between this kingdom and the rest of the world had to skirt the mountains by miles and miles, or go by sea… or arrive by spaceship.

Spock’s lands, for the most part, were considered isolated from the rest of civilization, and that was just the way that Spock liked it.

Spock sat on the windowsill of the southwest tower, one knee drawn up, as he watched over his countryside and the late-night fog rolling in quickly from the sea. There would be rain again tonight, heavy thundershowers, before the night ended: the black sky portended torrential storms, and soon – within the hour.

He loved the rain at night, and normally he would have felt content and satisfied now. Yet something still disturbed him, something beyond the trouble with his young manservant Greth, though he couldn’t put a name to it. The last few days had troubled without telling him why; he had asked his spirit enlighteners for answers in his trances, yet for the time being his mind-guides chose to remain silent.

Cotton wisps of fog drifted across the full moon, the over-full blood-moon grown fat and sated low in the southern sky. Bright rectangle of reflected moonlight illuminated the pensive form slouched back in the window.

He was a strange-looking man, not handsome in the artistic-perfection definition of the term, but powerfully magnetic, compelling. Aquiline nose, high cheekbones; one gaunt cheek bearing a small scar from a long-ago battle; a few creases of age now hinted across his brow, the corners of thin lips. And sometimes it wearied him to recall each of the long forty years which had passed before his eyes.

His eyes: his divine prize, his divine curse. The majority of his subjects considered his strangely unique exotic eyes to be a sign from the Holy Power that Spock was at least a demi-god; on the other hand, more than a few considered him a witch, maybe even a devil, although none would venture to say so where they could be overheard. Black obsidian eyes beneath sharply etched lids, thin upswept black brows; and ears that tapered upward to sensually curved points. And his icy stare could hypnotize, so they said, and those unnatural eyes and ears could see the future, and hear a man’s secret thoughts, and commune with the spirits of the invisible world, so they said.

And perhaps they were right, because he did sense things that others did not, and he felt auras around people; and in trances he knew events before they happened, and his spirit advisers suggested those among his subjects who plotted and threatened his reign, and so he could take action against his stunned and surprised adversaries when they knew he could have had no human knowledge of their subterfuge and conspirings; and so the superstition grew among those he ruled. He himself did not know why he looked different from his people – he was told by those older than he, that he had come as a child from some far-away star. Perhaps he _was_ a demon, fallen from that distant star, perhaps his spirit advisers answered to Lucifer instead of God; perhaps one day long ago he had unknowingly bargained with Lucifer for a kingdom, and Lucifer had laid an absolute kingship across Spock’s open palms with the requisition that later his adjutants would come to demand exaction.

Well, it that were true, then apparently payment was due now. Needles pricked his brain, stabbed his soul. What the hell was going on? _please talk to me, my lords of consciousness, tell me what it all means, what do you want of me now_? But only silence lay upon his inner hearing.

A cold breeze swept up the rocky slope below the castle, buffeted about the granite corners of the façade, and found its way into Spock’s window; the wind tugged at his long ebon hair, tossed it in a tangled silken swirl. Most of his black hair lay cut in a short witch-shag with ragged bangs across his forehead, and sparsely interspersed through the rest of it hung long tangled tresses halfway down his back and chest; and now with both hands he pushed the wind-blown locks off his face, then gripped the dark-blue satin cloak tighter around his slender naked forty-year-old body, but the satin could not shield him from the cold.

Of course, the situation regarding his young manservant and the captain of the guard had enraged him monstrously; and here two days later, it still ate at his brain and refused him any peace even though he’d already punished both of them appropriately; and that matter should now be dismissed from his mind. The captain had received a severe flogging which could have killed him had not Spock chosen to merciful, and the youth was now spending his second twenty-four hours locked in a basement cell cold and naked and hungry and more miserable than he’d ever been in his life; and the only reason at all that Spock had shown mercy instead of putting them both to death, was the fact that evidently they had not consummated the act, some interruption had prevented the captain’s penetration, so the boy’s hole still belonged to Spock alone. Still he alone ultimately owned the young man.

But still Spock felt cheated, like the victim of a rude practical joke, and he wanted them to suffer, he wanted them to pay dearly. What he hadn't considered though, was how badly he’d suffer too with his young man locked away, and his bed cold and empty and lonely the night before. He had very nearly given in late in the night and marched downstairs in the cold darkness to bring the boy back to his bed so they could comfort each other into warm sleep. But then his enraged pride had welled up and prevented him from rescuing the boy for at least another day or so; and so he had lain in that huge cold bed all alone, listening to the fury of the rain and hail battering his window for hours, until he had finally drifted into a restless twilight sleep a short while before dawn. But he had vowed not to spend another night alone.

He turned his head away from the night sky and toward the large bed in the middle of the huge bed-chamber. Dying firelight from the hearth flickered long shadows over the sleeping form bundled warmly in the satin down comforter, and Spock smiled contentment. The mound shifted languidly in sleep.

The mound was not his young manservant.

His mental guardians had led out into the lea earlier this evening, and he had followed unquestioningly, not understanding… until he had seen the other figure in the meadow. And suddenly, a little crack of light, a plan teased his brain, and he had smiled to himself at the revelation of his guardians’ obvious sense of humor.

New images, new information flooded his mind, unconscious thought-transference from this stranger, a foreigner, a weary interstellar traveler stopping over temporarily at the recreation stop which Spock so hospitably offered to weary interstellar travelers. Most were simple civilians, vacationers, a lot unused to space-travel. This particular traveler, however, was not a mere civilian. An officer from Terra, a planet somewhere star-systems away, a lieutenant connected to a great command ship called the USS Farragut; a brave man, intelligent – if a little more than slightly stubborn – a handsome man, late twenties, blond, husky, very attractive. Wandered away from the facilities several miles away ( _why_? _what had drawn him here_?) and gotten lost. And another image had teased Spock’s mind, a titillating suggestion that definitely merited further investigation. So Spock had approached the disoriented wanderer to solicitously offer food, drink, and the shelter of his comfortable cottage in anticipation of the approaching storm; and the man, named Jim Kirk, had gratefully accepted.

Over dinner they had chatted about Lieutenant Kirk’s travels, Spock’s country and people – Kirk had found it amusedly surprising to learn that his host was ruler of this land, offering his humble abode to a stranger as a simple commoner might – and that the ‘humble abode’ was a castle. And they shared the same tales of battle and brew and women that soldiers and armies share universally. And through it all, one same teasing thought grew stronger and stronger in Spock’s brain, and finally, one time whey they sat close, Spock reached out a gentle hand to rest on Kirk’s thigh, and leaned closer, gaze touching moist lips that he desired to kiss.

Instantly Kirk had retracted in shock and surprise, but Spock knew he had not misjudged, even as Kirk had pulled away and nervously risen from the table. For even though Kirk had reacted strongly, there was not the horror that a straight heterosexual man would have responded with. Immediately Kirk had protested, but Spock countered him … _no, I know you really want it, I know you like it, I know you share yourself with other men_ …

… _how could you know_? Kirk had demanded, then realizing that was practically a statement of admission, immediately insisted … _no, you’re wrong, I have no such obscene desires, hey, I’ve got half-a-dozen women back on the Farragut_ …

… _and how many men_? Spock had queried with a smile… _I know you prefer males, I know you’ve had male lovers, let’s go to bed right now and make love to each other_ …

… _where did you get such crazy ideas_?...

… _from your mind, I have telepathic abilities, I can read your mind_ …

… _no, you’re crazy, you’re lying_ …

… _you know I’m not lying, you know it’s the truth_ … And Spock had smiled again, indulgently, amused by this man’s flustered attempts to hide what lay so blatantly exposed to Spock’s fourth-dimensional sight.

… _well, so maybe I do_ , Kirk had finally admitted, _but I don’t know you, I can’t sleep with someone I don’t know_ …

… _now_ you’re _lying_ , Spock had grinned… _you’ll sleep with anyone who’ll shove a prick up inside you_ …

… _well, maybe I used to, but not anymore_ …

And then Spock had slipped arms around Kirk’s body and touched parted lips to the younger man’s face; and a warm feeling oozed through the prince’s muscles, and momentarily Kirk had relaxed and responded with sensual pressure up and down the older man’s firm excited body; and for a few short moments, they had pleasured each other with teasing sexual promises. And for a few short moments, Spock forgot about a tender sensual youth suffering miserably in a black filth-infested hole; and his whole being was consumed with lust for this other male, this tough masculine warrior-lieutenant, husky blond Terran, who might very well aspire to a position of authority – such as captain of the guard? – and then Spock presumed to slide one desirous groping hand between the other man’s thighs. Abruptly then, the younger blond had tried to pull away like a sleeper slightly disoriented by a sharp awakening, murmuring an embarrassed excuse about having to get back to town and his companions and his ship, that he had wandered away without telling anyone where he was going, and they were probably searching for him right now; and Captain Garrovick would no doubt, at the very least, break his rank for going AWOL.

And then without warning, the younger man, so tough and in control of himself, had sharply doubled over, gripped his belly, dropped to his knees, and uncontrollably vomited his guts out.

… a little miscalculation on Spock’s part – obviously this foreigner had little tolerance for the little surprise which Spock had added to their dinners: a sweet mead well known locally for its potent aphrodisiac powers. Spock had drunk a glassful himself, but then he was years-used to enjoying the ‘heady’ substance.

So Spock had helped him and cleaned up after him, and then assisted him upstairs to the bedroom and tucked him into the large comfortable bed, spread with plush blankets, and a satin comforter, and thick down pillows.

And now, hours later, while Kirk rested and recuperated in warmth and comfort, Spock still sat on the cold window ledge, trying to make sense of the last few days, trying to decipher the enigmatic half-thoughts which his enlighteners teased him with. What the hell did it all mean?

Or maybe that’s exactly what it meant.

Without warning, the sky exploded in a fury of rain and hail and lightning. Showers poured down, gale winds sprayed water into the room with surprising violence.

Immediately Spock rose from the ledge and reached out into the storm to pull the windows shut and latch them tightly against the onslaught. Then carelessly dropping his wet satin cloak onto the stone floor, he walked naked over to the bed and slid his cold body beneath the warm plush covers to enjoy the body-warmth of his bed-partner.

Kirk half-awakened with a moan. “… where am I?” he started to ask, then surrendered with a tired groan.

“How do you feel?” Spock urged, resting an arm across the other man’s body.

“A little sick… better than I did…”

“Good, I’m glad,” and Spock smiled to himself. He felt better too. The mead always aroused him pleasurably, and he was excited anyway by the prospect of tasting new meat. So unlike Greth – this new man – such a contrast to Greth’s delicate effeminacy. Spock could hardly wait to impale this handsome blond warrior, and slide in and out, the sensation of tight moist warmth squeezing his throbbing organ. Damn, his brain threatened to explode with such tantalizing ecstasy!

Outside the heavens roared wildly, the storm at fever pitch. Rain battered the heavy windows, a deafening fusillade, threatening to break through into the room in an icy torrent; but here inside, the dying embers in the hearth still gave off comforting warmth, and Spock moved closer to his bed-mate – how hot-blooded this young lieutenant must be!

“Come here,” Spock whispered huskily, “keep me warm.” And Kirk obligingly squirmed closer to the older man, then lowered his weight on top of Spock’s body, his mouth found the side of Spock’s neck.

A moan of satisfaction rumbled from the prince’s throat, damn this was good! And momentarily his brain considered young Greth suffering desperately down below, but then dismissed him completely without another trace of thought for the rest of the night.

Warmth settled between Spock’s thighs, his arms embraced Kirk’s body, as their groins rubbed together sensually. Slowly, erotically, Spock moved against the oppressive weight, then one hand slid up to clutch a fistful of thick dark-blond hair, while the other stroked warm hard-muscled buttocks.

Then, without warning, a finger thrust all the way in.

Kirk reacted, a sharp intake of breath between clenched teeth, a trembling moan as the enticing finger worked provocatively deep inside, stimulating vigorously, then a contented exhalation, and then Kirk began working his abdomen sensually against the older man’s, rubbing in a flat circular motion, and thrusting up with pressure in the first suggestions of sexual penetration and consummation which later they would both achieve on each other. The prince’s finger continued to work up inside Kirk’s rectum, in and out, ceaseless in its powerful stimulation almost to the point of pain; and unwilled, adrenalin poured into Kirk’s bloodstream, and sweat leaked from his pores, and the younger man’s breath deepened, his muscles trembling uncontrollably; and, increased by the mead’s potency, the digital probing nearly pushed him over the edge into orgasm. Kirk’s thrusting increased; even without penetration he readied himself to come right here over Spock’s belly.

But Spock wouldn’t let him. Years of experience had taught Spock a great deal and polished his technique to perfection, and he knew how to force instant results, and he also knew how to attenuate the pleasurable anguish to nearly-unbearable heights.

Then pulling his finger out of the hot moist channel, he gripped Kirk’s shoulders to hold him still, interrupt the frottage. Kirk whimpered a little in disappointment.

Now the young lieutenant looked up as Spock’s fingers slid through short dark-blond tresses. Whimpers turned into purrs. One bony knee pushed possessively between Kirk’s legs, intimately suggestive, as Spock finger-combed through the silk-fine hair. Then lightly his touch strayed over a smooth-shaven cheek; one finger under the chin tilted Kirk’s head back slightly. Moist parted lips aroused another quiver of passion in Spock’s crotch.

His arms slid around the young man’s slender body, pinned Kirk’s arms, squeezed him tightly. “Relax,” the raspy voice whispered, “just relax and enjoy it now.” His lips and tongue tasted the slightly moist texture of Kirk’s throat; he pulled the younger man even tighter to himself so he could feel their hard cocks press together.

A tight breath released abruptly from Kirk’s lips, his shoulders slumped, his head fell forward on Spock’s shoulder. He was breathing though his mouth, eyes closed, body trembling with sexual need. Spock’s hands caressed him, up and down his body; one hand squeezed his shoulder, then worked its way down to his buttocks, gripped, rubbed, massaged… slowly… firmly…

Kirk moaned again.

Spock wanted to spread this human’s flesh so badly, so very badly. His hands rubbed the firm buttocks, down the inside of muscular thighs, then back up to an unprotected crotch, pressed hard, cupped the bulge of swollen balls. He finger-massaged the valuable package, worked it, manipulated it, felt its bulk in his hand.

He was breathing shallow gasps through his mouth now too.

“… uh…” a guttural moan from Kirk, the only sound from deep in his throat. Slowly, dreamily, he slipped his head down until his lips touched Spock’s left nipple.

A sharp breath blew from Spock’s nostrils, followed by a slower deeper exhalation of satisfaction. More firmly now, Kirk pressed his mouth to the other man’s tit, tongued it, sucked it. Spock took the younger man’s head with both hands, fingers clutching blond silk, holding the face tight to his breast. He drank in the alcoholic sensation, then Kirk suddenly jumped the feeling ten-fold by working one groping hand between them to find Spock’s testicles and squeeze. The warmth from the manipulating hand drove the temperature of Spock’s already-hot groin sky-high. Heat climbed into his body, hot blood throbbed in his ears, threatened to explode his very being.

“… gods…” Spock breathed.

Slowly Kirk gained confidence. He gripped Spock’s sweat-damp scrotum more firmly now to rub, massage, drive its owner to the brink of frenzy. Then deliberately he slipped his hand back out, leaving Spock moaning and quivering – obviously he could play that game as well as his host.

And still he sucked on the captive tit as hard as he could. Spock was gasping for breath. He thrust his groin against Kirk’s body to regain the hot passion, _please don’t let it stop now… please please oh god please_ …

A harsh whisper. “Bite it.”

Obligingly Kirk pinched the nipple with his teeth, rubbed his tongue all over the little erection, as Spock’s hands continued to guide his head.

“Harder,” Spock moaned, eyes closed, “bite it harder.”

Kirk obeyed, nipping and nipping, until a sharp little “oh!” of pain broke from Spock’s lips, and Spock’s fingers clutched convulsively at Kirk’s hair, tugging until it hurt Kirk.

Then abruptly Spock had had enough of that. He released Kirk for a moment, just enough time to roll them over, Kirk face-down and Spock on top of him beneath the bed-covers.

He wanted to fuck the young man right then and there. Spread that hot ass and fuck him deep, as deep as Spock could go. To hell with any more foreplay… but then it would be over too soon, way too soon. He wanted this to last all night. He wanted to take the young man more than just once. As many times as he could possibly get it up, he wanted to shove it up this man again and again, and shoot off his load deep inside an eager hot tight hole.

A dozen times if he could. A hundred.

Sensually he milked the pre-ejaculate from his own weeping organ, then slowly, gently, worked one lubricating finger up into Kirk’s rectum.

“… ohh…” Kirk groaned, half in pain, half in abrupt arousal.. His hands, stretched over his head, clutched the pillow. “… please… please…”

Spock’s testicles tightened, his prick squirmed in sudden sharp pleasure. Firmly his middle finger worked in and out of Kirk’s opening. The young man’s tight anus clenched convulsively on Spock’s finger. Hot and tight and wet. The pleasure intoxicated Spock. Again his cock jerked involuntarily. He needed to shove it up the younger man right now, or risk going mad. He didn’t mean to intentionally hurt the young man, but oh god he want to violate that erotic little hole!

Now he worked two fingers in and out of Kirk’s rectum. Moans broke from Kirk’s throat between clenched teeth. Spock worked more fluid inside. He didn’t want the anal tissue to tear – he’d make sure the welcoming channel was well-lubricated before he slid his blood-swollen prick into that slick tunnel and rammed all the way home.

Then bracing his arms on either side of Kirk’s head, Spock stretched his legs between his bed-mate’s spread thighs, then lowered himself on top. Slowly he exhaled a long sigh. He could feel uncontrollable trembling beneath him. He worked his hands around Kirk’s chest. “Come on, relax,” he urged quietly into Kirk’s hair, felt the warmth of his breath radiate back into his own face. “Come on.” He smiled gently, coaxingly.

Again he pressed his face into the silken hair. He kissed it. Kissed it again and again, enjoying the texture with his lips, searching for unkissed spots to taste, searching the nape of Kirk’s neck for tender areas. His own long shaggy black tresses drifted against both their faces. His body moved seductively, suggestively against Kirk’s. His hands roamed freely over the younger man’s muscular physique. Sweat slicked both their naked bodies as they squirmed against each other. Desirously Spock gripped Kirk’s buttocks, grinding his groin against Kirk’s ass. A drop of sweat dripped off Spock’s wet face onto Kirk’s back.

Beneath the sweat smell, the unique scent of this man teased Spock’s nostrils. He took a deep breath of the odor.

He wanted this man for his own.

_to be continued…_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prince, Spock, craves this warrior, Kirk, for his own, and he will take the golden body that is offered to him…
> 
> Spock looked up, sensing Kirk’s gaze on him. The young man stood at the archway to the bath alcove, naked, smiling at him…

Damn, he wanted this man in his bed every night. They hadn't even fucked once yet, but Spock already knew that he wanted this young warrior-lieutenant in his bed for the rest of all their nights.

And then his hot swollen tight prick could not wait a moment longer.

Spreading Kirk with one hand, he used the other to guide his blood-hot organ against the anus. The hole was tight; Kirk was trying to relax as best he could. Spock propped himself over the body beneath, and thrust smoothly, rhythmically, against the tight anus. He didn’t want to rip the younger man, but he had to – _must_! – gain entrance.

The pre-sem facilitated his penetration, even through the clenched anus.

– then… damn, he was in!... he practically lost his load right then and there… hot and tight and wet… cock sliding firmly into a hot slick rectum… Somewhere in the corner of his mind he heard Kirk whimper in pain, but it hardly registered, right now his entire being was focussed intently on the brain-searing sensation of hot slick sheath. Sweat drenched his body, soaked long ebon tresses, stung his eyes, trickled and dripped off his own body onto Kirk’s. Frantically he thrust now, _please please please, release, please, please_ … the tension in his prick and balls grew unbearable, almost a screaming pain in his loins… _please let loose now please_! His body tortured him on the edge of orgasm… he’d waited so long, _please don’t make me wait another second_ …!

Explosion of searing white light. Hot wetness shooting into the young man’s opening, a good load of it. Ramming frantically. A tiny moan of exquisite pleasure and pain. Ramming and ramming. Beneath him, Kirk spasmed, pounding his loins against the bed. Sweat running in rivulets… unable to catch a breath… ramming, ramming… _oh god please don’t stop yet please please please_ … ramming so hard, so hard, clutching the fading tendrils of mind-blasting orgasm… _don’t stop so soon please don’t oh god please oh god oh god_ …

The sensation wafted, then finally drifted away. Spock thrust again, but the ecstasy was slowly dissipating. Another thrust, half-hearted. Finally – nothing. Fire-blaze quenched by a thunderstorm of passion which was this young man.

Spock collapsed on top of his younger lover. The blinding ecstasy had lasted only a few short moments. He wanted more, so much more.

Beneath him, Kirk still thrust against the bed in his final few seconds of orgasm, then he too relaxed face-down on the mattress, dragging deep uneven vocal breaths, muscles trembling with total exhaustion, sweat pouring.

Spock continued to lie on top of Kirk, his organ still penetrating the wet warmth of the younger man’s opening. After waiting so long, he didn’t want to break contact so soon. His face pressed against Kirk’s hair, his chest heaved with desperate breaths. He hadn't been this drained in a very long time. Now all he wanted to do was sleep off this lethargy, this lassitude for a couple of hours, then start all over again. They had a great deal more ground to cover before this orgy was through.

The storm outside had let up some, and now raindrops pattered steadily at the windows. The fire in the hearth had settled down into embers, releasing its last radiance into the large stone-granite bed-chamber. And two bodies slept in the warmth of each other, beneath the welcome weight of down comforter and heavy blankets, relaxing in the peace of post-coital satiation.

Spock awoke still lying on Kirk, still penetrating, still face pressed against Kirk’s hair. He wondered how long he’d been asleep. Grey morning light filtered through the wet windows. The sun had been up for at least an hour.

Once more Spock kissed Kirk’s hair, lips caressing silk, then found his cheek, the corner of his lips. He enjoyed the firm texture of Kirk’s lips, stroked a hand down the young man’s slick hairless body. Anticipation for the hours ahead tingled his brain. He hadn't felt this good in a long time.

For now he’d go into the bathroom and clean up from their first joining. After Kirk awoke, Spock would have breakfast brought up for both of them. And then, after a respite, they’d explore greater pleasures with each other’s body.

Gently, so as not to disturb Kirk, Spock uncoupled, then slid off, pushed himself from the bed, and went into the small adjoining room. From the large pitcher on the nightstand, he poured water into a bowl, then soaked a cloth and wiped himself all over. The cold water needled his skin icily, abruptly shattering any last sleep-haze. He soaped up, then rinsed. Maybe Kirk would soon join him in this bath, and they would kiss and fondle wet bodies, and fingers would explore openings, and Spock’s wet soapy prick would slide easily into Kirk’s tight hole…

Spock took hold of his organ, limp now, but soon to grow rigid again for another chance at that blond warrior’s bodily entrance. He grinned, and his limp flesh squirmed electrically at the titillating suggestion. Absently he thumbed the glans, pleasuring himself ever so lightly.

And then he looked up, sensing Kirk’s gaze on him. The young man stood at the archway to the bath alcove, naked, smiling at him.

Spock returned the smile. “You know, you’re very good,” he murmured.

“I hardly did anything,” Kirk admitted, lips tugging into a tiny grin. “As I recall, you did most of the work last night.”

Taking a large plush blue towel from the rack, Spock rubbed his face and dripping hair, then began drying off. “Well, we shall have to correct that, then. After breakfast, you may take your turn.”

But Kirk only shook his head. “I can’t stay. I’ve got to get back to town now. I’ve got to leave right away.”

“Why?”

“My ship breaks orbit today. I have to be on it, or face disciplinary action.”

Yesterday’s chill tightened into a familiar knot in Spock’s belly. All the night’s warmth seemed to drain from him. He could feel the tendrils of obsession slip into his brain, into his solar plexus. “I want you to stay with me,” he revealed, realizing somewhere in the back of his mind that he’d never come this close to begging before. “I would make you captain of the guard. I need a commanding officer for my personal guard – my previous captain has… dishonored himself. You would receive many… benefits.”

The younger man’s gaze moved over the tall lean body before him, but then he shook his head again, smiling sadly. “If I stayed, it would be desertion of my own duties, and I would face court-martial. What would you do to one of your own soldiers who deserted?”

Spock felt the cold settle in his belly. This was one battle he knew he was destined to lose. He admitted stonily, “I would have him arrested and executed.”

Thick-set shoulders lifted in acknowledgement. “Well, I probably wouldn’t be executed for being away without leave, but I would be arrested and confined, and probably have my rank broken. So even if I wanted to, I can’t stay. Either I leave on my own, or the ship’s security guards come and take me away forcibly.”

Spock stepped up to him, took hold of his upper arms, pressed their naked bodies together once again, looked down at the broad handsome face. “If you could, would you want to stay?”

The husky body leaned into the touch ever so subtly. “Don’t ask me that.”

“I’m asking you. Do you want to stay here with me?”

Kirk stood against him for a long minute before answering. Then the young Terran officer replied openly, “I want to return to my ship now… and then later I want to return to you. When this mission is over, I’ll have four weeks of leave. I can spend it here if you want me to.”

“I want you to.” And then Spock’s arms tightened about the desirable body, and he leaned down for a deep hard kiss while his tongue presumed entrance into a warm wet mouth. He tasted the human-ness, the unique tastes of this man, tastes that would remain in his memory until they were renewed. He would have this bed-mate back again some way, somehow. He promised himself that.

But then he released that sensual mouth, looked down through half-lidded eyes at the flushed face, felt their touching organs trying to renew the passion of a few hours ago… and Spock would have liked nothing better than to climb back into bed with this warm flesh and renew that passion completely. His loins ached with need. And the bed was so close.

Instead, he let go of the husky shoulders and pushed past the tantalizing body into the main chamber again; went over to the large wardrobe and took out some clothes. Casually, belying the desire in his blood, he offered, “You may bathe if you wish, and then when you’re dressed, I’ll take you into town.

“Thank you,” the young hot-blooded warrior-lieutenant acknowledged, and heat flickered behind hazel eyes, “… for everything.”

And Spock felt that heat mingle with his own, simmer in his loins.

And during the carriage drive back into town, while the two of them exchanged nothing heavier than a little casual banter, Spock had to forcibly still his urge to drag this golden body down to the rain-lushened underbrush, and re-play their night acquaintance.

And for a long time after the golden form had disintegrated into gold-sparkle and vanished back up to the waiting ship, Spock sat in the carriage and stared up at the cloud-obscured heavens, and wondered just how far away the silver battle-machine hovered on pulsing engines, holding its treasure from him.

He turned the carriage around, urged the harnessed beasts back toward the castle. When he returned home, he would call Greth up from the dungeon, and perhaps give some of his need to the boy’s soft flesh. However, he well knew that the act would only temporarily abate the fire within his body and soul; there would be no satiation.

Instead, his passion blaze would have to await the return of the storm.

* * * * * **FINIS** * * * * *


End file.
